im the deliverer of requests its me. 8JustABox8 i hope u in particular will enjoy and if not then dont tell me.
also shout out to my friend bcuz shes right. i do in fact write like im on crack.
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"I'm home!" You locked the door behind you, cutting off the street and the rest of a foreign world. As you leaned against the wall to support yourself while taking off your shoes, a smell of herbs and freshly baked bread wrapped around you.
A pleasant calming shiver came down your whole body just as a familiar voice sounded:
"Kitchen!"
And so you had no choice but to go in that direction, following the aromas and the warmth.
Your home wasn't that large. It was spacious and cool, with thick walls, high ceilings and wooden floor. There were only two rooms - one bedroom and a living room connected to kitchen -, a balcony, which was also used as a hall, and there was obviously a bathroom.
You trotted across the living room in excitement, noticing a tall silhouette standing behind the kitchen counter. The carpet made your steps sound a bit eerie but the man turned around to face you with open arms.
You felt a smile creep onto your face and blood rushing to your cheeks and instead of trotting faster you jumped at the guy in front of you.
With a quiet grunt he caught you, pressing your whole body against his so hard, that you almost couldn't breathe, wrapped in the soft smell of his cologne and of home-made food. Despite being on the edge of suffocating, you snuggled into his arms even harder, feeling how your body loosened completely in his presence.
"How are you?" he asked placing a kiss on the top of your head and releasing you slightly from his arms.
"Tiered" you sighed dramatically leaning on his chest yet again, not willing to let go. "And I'm thirsty."
He laughed as his hands grabbed you around your waist, raised you and sat you down on the counter beside the sink. You crammed your neck just to be able to see what was inside the pots nearby. You were unsuccessful in this aspect but just moments later you found yourself with a bottle of red wine and a glass in your hands.
"Leave some for the pasta." Your man warned you as you were putting the bottle thread to your lips, completely ignoring the glass and kicking your feet innocently. "I'm serious."
"Okay." You rolled your eyes unbothered, taking another sip like the opportunitistic alcoholic you were. "What are you cooking, any way? It smells good."
"Obviously it does. " He laughed, while he was stirring gently the food in the pan. "So, I wanted to make pasta with mashrooms and parmesan," he began his story and you rested your elbowson your knees, your gaze fixed on his profile. "but when I went to the market there weren't any nice mashrooms."
"No way!"
He clicked his tongue and shrugged. "They had tomatoes, though" he said. "But I felt that we have been eating a lot of them lately and we need a little change, so I didn't get them."
"Oh okay." You nodded, considering his words. To most, this conversation would be beyond boring and irrelevant.
For most of your life, you also used to hold no appreciation for such moments in life. Because, looking at it coldly, rationally, no emotions nor attachments involved, this was quite meaningless. You were wasting time, when you could have been doing so much, working, learning, exploring. You could be anywhere now and be anything.
And yet you were here.
And looking at it realistically, humanly, this moment was important and held more value than anything else you could have imagined, because it was filled with love and tenderness. All the choices and sacrifices that led you here finally meant something, because you recieved a fleeting moment in which you didn't feel alone, only loved.
It didn't matter that Capitano's story had no actual puente - he was telling it only because he wanted to make you a witness of a part of his life in which you were initially missing. And you were willing to take in this story, accept it as a part of your demesne and share it with him.
It was crucial to you to be a part of his life's legacy and so it was natural for you to follow him, absorb everything he gave you and just be always fully present in the moment. You couldn't bare a thought of losing any of this precious time you two had.
"Yeah I can smell that there are no tomatoes in it" you pointed out after a while. "Is there oregano in the pot? And rosemary?" You put down the bottle, which he took away immediately but you didn't mind to busy with analysing the aromas in the kitchen. "And basil?"
He laughed, pouring a little wine into the pan.
"Everything except basil is there, honey. Basil should be still alive and breathing right behind you on the counter, unless you sat on it." You jumped suddenly stressed out, turning around. Thankfully the little plant was indeed alive and breathing right behind yiur back.
"But any way" Capitano cleered his throat with an amused smile. "I figured that we should eat something simple yet original tonight"he continued his story. "So I bought mozzarella and aubergines, zwiebel, wine, cream, basil obviously..."
You cut in:
"You bought what? 'Zwiebel'?" you repeated.
"Yes."
"What is a zwiebel?"
He blinked, seemingly shocked you wouldn't know the meaning of this word.
"It's a..." he pondered. "This, you know, vegetable? I mean I don't think it's actually a vegetable, though." He shrugged and wanted to move on with the story but seeing your increasigly confused gaze he began explaining:
"It brown on the outside and white inside and it has layers. Lots of them. And makes your eyes teary." He frowned, turning around to face you, while leaning his back against the edge of the counter. He seemed more and more frustrated with how insufficient his explanation appeared. "Oh, you know, zwiebel."
You blinked, still confused but starting to connect the dots.
"You mean onion?" you took a guess. "Zwiebel, onion." Capitano scoffed. "Tomato, tomahto, potato, potahto. Whatever. It tastes the same no matter the name."
"Yeah." You shrugged, hopping off the counter to get more wine. "So we're eating pasta with aubergine, mozzarella and herbs tonight?"
He raised a corner of his mouth as he watched you empty the bottle.
"You don't mind that I prepared no dessert, do you?"
You put the bottle down and raised an eyebrow, feeling his eyes fall onto your lips.
Feeling brave, you took a step towards him, closing the space between the two of you and making him hold his breath as your body pressed against his arrogantly.
